“So, when you were acting all stand-offish and cold, that wasn’t because you didn’t like working with me?”

I look him in the eyes. “No. I love working with you. I love being around you. Hanging out with you is the most fun I’ve had in years. But I can’t help liking you as more than a colleague.”

Now he’s grinning. “Oh yeah?”

There’s something about him that makes my words keep flowing. Instead of sticking to the necessary, everything’s pouring out. “When you electrify me with your touch, I know it’s the Flame-finger–bardia connection. But it’s not uncomfortable, like you said it was for the others. It’s like...”

Like what? I think. Are you going to say this? Well, yes, my mouth keeps moving, so obviously I am. “It’s like I don’t want you to stop.”

“You mean, like this?” Reaching out, Siaka touches my arm with his fingertips. A current of excitement, and desire, and something deeper courses through me. I’m looking straight into his eyes as his fingers press my skin, and all I want to do is lean forward and kiss him. My eyes skim down to his lips, and it takes all my strength to pull my arm away and say, “Stop.”

The electrified pressure of his fingers disappears, and along with it the overwhelming emotions. I take a deep breath and say, “Now please, for the love of god, put a shirt on.”

He laughs, walks away, and comes back wearing a hoodie.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he chuckles. “So, my touch is too intense for you?”

“Um, yeah. You can’t imagine...”

“Actually, I can,” he says. His lips curl up in a mischievous smile. “Let’s just say, I’m equally affected. Not by the touch, but by you.”

My mind hits this speedbump and sends me flying. It’s a good ten seconds before I can speak as I process this information. “Wait...you are?”

“Why do you think I offered to pick you up on the scooter those times? It would have been easier for you to take the Métro.”

“You feel...?” I’m unsure how to finish.

“Yep,” he says. “That’s why it hurt extra-bad when I thought you didn’t want to work with me. Or worse, didn’t respect me.” He looks thoughtful. “Seems like we’re in a predicament.”

I nod. “We can’t do this. We can’t like each other. We have to work together. Everyone’s counting on us. What if something actually happened and it became more than just like?”

“It would be awesome,” he says, completing my thought, “until there was a problem.”